


Less Than Human

by ThereIsNoTragedyInThat



Series: What Once Was [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Boys In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Whumptober, Witch Hunts, but I liked it so here, idk what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26783059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat/pseuds/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat
Summary: The afternoon sun was bright and hot as it stood high over Camelot. Merlin could practically feel the heated stones beneath the thin soles of his shoes as he tried to move swiftly through the market. It was busier their usual, people milling about and bustling around the stalls, almost as if it were a special occasion of some sort. Usually, if there were festivities to be had, Arthur would have some role in them so he couldn’t fathom what might be happening today.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: What Once Was [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915285
Comments: 2
Kudos: 168
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Less Than Human

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Collars

The afternoon sun was bright and hot as it stood high over Camelot. Merlin could practically feel the heated stones beneath the thin soles of his shoes as he tried to move swiftly through the market. It was busier their usual, people milling about and bustling around the stalls, almost as if it were a special occasion of some sort. Usually, if there were festivities to be had, Arthur would have some role in them so he couldn’t fathom what might be happening today.

In his satchel he carried a mix of fresh spices and herbs for Gaius. He’d been lucky enough to haggle the exasperated shop owner down to half the price and he knew the man loved him as much as he hated him. Merlin wasn’t afraid to take advantage of that, the market people adored him.

Impossibly, as he neared the castle, Merlin realized the crowds had grown thicker and he was moving along with them in a steady stream of activity. Shrugging, Merlin tightened his grip on the bag and let himself be moved forward. Just up ahead he could see a clearing of sorts, out of bounds of the castle and in one of the few open spaces within the marketplace.

Curious, he drew closer, gently easing himself through the throngs of people, his ears picking up the sound of a booming voice and another…quieter voice, one that was pained and feminine. Something in his gut twisted, his magic thrumming beneath his skin and setting him on edge, even though there was no obvious threat nearby.

Merlin froze when, between the bodies of other people, he caught a horrific sight. His magic surged, all the precarious control he’d learned through the years being swept away in an instant of absolute rage and incredulity.

People seem to part as he no longer cared to be gentle, shoving them aside until he was at the front, staring at the scene in front of him, unable to believe that it was not some nightmare tale told by firelight…not one of his mother’s many fearful warnings, trying to scare him into caution.

A man, dressed in leather, a silver cross dangling from his neck, a holy book held aloft in his hand, booming voice carrying across the crowd, carefully curated as a showman, to encourage fear and enchant his audience. In his free hand a chain, held tightly in his grasp, leading to a collar of spikes, fastened around a pale and delicate neck, down which streams of blood ran.

She was just a girl. Barely a woman, her eyes tortured, and her mouth open wide as she tried to breathe without pushing further into the spikes that caused her such agony. A witch’s collar, designed to control magic users, etched with runes and imbued with its own power. 

Merlin could not think around the nausea in his gut and the bile rising up in his throat as he witnessed this injustice. He did not know if that girl was a druid, if she’d been snatched from her home and bosom of her family, or if she’d been like Merlin, hiding in plain sight and spotted performing some small innocent act.

For all he knew she might just be a helpless girl who was just a little strange and unliked in her town and an easy target for a cruel and disgusting parody of a man such as this. Either way, Merlin tasted blood and he knew his eyes were glowing and he hoped, oh he hoped the man looked at him, any second now…

A hand clamped down on his shoulder and he was suddenly looking into the wide eyes of Lancelot, his expression fearful. Not of Merlin he knew but of the Witchfinder in their midst. Behind him Gwaine was casting a sickened glare at the scene before them and he knew, just like that, Arthur wouldn’t be far behind them.

“Keep it together Merlin, please.”

Lancelot’s plea seemed to break through the cloud in his head and he carefully, painfully reigned his magic back in, realizing the other knights had arrived and kept a subtle barrier between him and prying eyes.

Merlin barely managed to nod, and Lancelot stepped away.

The witchfinder had stopped talking, clearly startled by the presence of the knights. It seemed nobody had told him that Uther was on his deathbed, comatose more than not and that Prince Arthur had no interest in the persecution of magic, not now.

Gwaine’s arm encircled his shoulders and he let himself be led away while the rest of the knights took care of the rest. He could hear the man protesting but he could no longer hear the girl’s cries of pain and he knew Elyan must have freed her.

Merlin felt like was in a haze, the rush of magic wasn’t all that different to adrenalin and he was still waiting to come down from it as they entered the grounds of the castle. He was led swiftly up different staircases and Merlin knew where they were going without really having to think about it.

Arthur had heard of the Witchfinder and immediately sent the knights out searching for him. That should warm his heart but all he felt was cold. Gwaine left him there with a squeeze to his shoulder and a troubled expression that Merlin couldn’t be bothered to decipher in that moment.

The door opened and he was pulled inside.

Familiar strong arms wrapped around him, holding him impossibly tight and Merlin found himself gripping Arthur right back, burying his face in his shoulder and willing himself to calm down. Nothing had happened, not really, so why did he feel as thought he were the one with the Witch’s Collar fastened around his neck?

“I’m sorry,” Arthur was saying into his ear. “I only heard of it ten minutes ago and I sent everyone to find you. I was worried…”

“He had someone,” Merlin choked out. “A girl, she was innocent, and he had her collared like she was some kind of animal, like it didn’t matter-”

Merlin was pulled back abruptly, Arthur’s arms firm on his shoulders as he looked into his eyes, “it does matter, she matters, you matter, this is not the legacy I’m going to leave behind. Its you and me and I won’t let that happen to you.”

He could see that Arthur believed it, could see the determination in his eyes, the one that dared anyone to disagree and Merlin wished that alone was enough to make it right. The truth was, Arthur was still a prince, not a king, not yet and the world that Uther had created would take more than a few decrees and two men’s love to change.

Merlin didn’t say any of that.

Instead, he nodded and buried himself back in the arms of the man who’d do anything to protect him and tried not to think of the streams of blood sliding down that girl’s pale throat.


End file.
